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Chapters (65)
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  65. Acknowledgements

‘Wait!’ I yell. ‘They’re armed.’

Thord turns to face me and, as if in slow motion, Tobias steps down onto the tracks. His white dentist’s jacket is red.

‘Police,’ shouts Thord.

Tobias has a towel or a sheet wrapped tight around his neck. He’s holding his rifle by his hip. He starts to raise it so the butt rests against his shoulder.

Noora fires.

Tobias falls to the tracks.

64

I collapse onto my bed.

Spending most of this morning at the police station giving my statement to Chief Björn and some suit from Karlstad homicide was exhausting. Reliving it all. Every detail. I only really spoke about it yesterday. About the train. But in my head was a hideous collage of the headless man in Visberg forest, Pan Night and the anvil, Emil being dragged away into the fog by his ankles. The unravelling horror of it all.

I rest my head on the pillow and stare at the photos on my bedside table. The one of Mum and Dad. The one of me and Tam down by the reservoir. The one of Noora smiling, showing off her one perfect dimple.

My hearing aids are out and I feel numb.

It’s like this every time I experience something traumatic. Before, I’d try to get back on my feet and go to work. I’d get out for a walk, try to reinstate my faith in humanity. I’d try to climb back on the metaphorical horse. But now I know better. It takes time. Now I know you stay numb for as long as you need to. I’m letting the shock drain out of my cells. I’ve hit the ‘restore to factory settings’ button and I’m lying here in standby mode.

Lena walked me over to the police station this morning. She didn’t say much, she just kept her hand loosely on my shoulder, in a manner that said, if you fall down, I am right here beside you. She picked me up after I was finished talking about that carriage, that sun lounger, the noise of the dentist’s drill. She walked me home and made sure I was okay. Lena’s never been a mother, but really, she has. She’s been a mother in an unspoken way. A mode of caring particular to her and her alone. One day I’ll thank her properly, if I can find the words.

It’s getting dark outside.